


Hearts These Days Are Cheap

by rellkelltn87



Category: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang - All Media Types, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Candy, Grief/Mourning, Hope, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:08:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29410266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rellkelltn87/pseuds/rellkelltn87
Summary: For the last seven years, Caractacus has spent Valentine's Day alone in his bedroom. It's the one day of the year when he's not his usual self.
Relationships: Caractacus Potts/Nevada Ramirez
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: Valentine's Day 2021 exchange





	Hearts These Days Are Cheap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clowchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clowchan/gifts).



“All the candy hearts say BAE,” Jemima observed, emptying a second box onto the paper towels she and her brother had spread out on the area rug in Jeremy’s room. Their father wouldn’t be happy about how they were examining the sugary loot that filled their Valentine’s Day goody bags, but as long as they cleaned up before bed, they’d stay in the clear. Caractacus had spent the last seven Valentine’s Days holed up in his bedroom, emerging only to make sure the kids were fed, never taking a bite of food for himself. 

Every other day of the year, even on the anniversary of the twins’ mother’s death — _especially_ on the anniversary of the twins’ mother’s death — Caractacus was doting, available, sometimes refusing to be out of their hair. 

Jemima hadn’t expected this year to be any different, even though they were living in a two-story house again, even though Mr. Ramirez had moved in. 

Mr. Ramirez — Vada, whatever — didn’t seem like he’d ever been the celebration-of-love-and-candy-hearts type anyway. 

Jeremy was occupied counting hearts. “Fifty in total,” he announced. “Forty-five say BAE.”

“So 90 percent BAE.”

Jeremy shrugged. “Where are the chocolate emoji hearts,” he asked, peeking into another bag. 

“We left ‘em in the kitchen. I’ll go.”

“Vada’s down there with his _lawyer_.”

“What’re you, scared?”

“Of hearing about all the bad stuff our dad’s boyfriend did? Yes, very much.”

Jemima rolled her eyes. “Daddy promised —”

“Daddy promised,” Jeremy echoed. “Has he told Vada yet about the flying car time machine in the garage? Or about how —”

“Shush,” Jemima warned.

“Don’t shush me.”

“I’m three minutes older than you. And I’m going to get the hearts.”

“Good luck,” Jeremy said with a shrug, crunching down on another sugary purple BAE. 

The staircase was just off Jeremy’s room, but Jemima headed to the master bedroom first to check on her father, who’d left the door open a crack so the kids would know he was there for them even on his worst day, even on the one day of the year when he needed to hole up alone. 

She peeked into the bedroom to find Caractacus sitting on the side of the bed, his feet planted on the floor. He wore a modern-day T-shirt and plaid pajama pants, quite a departure for a man who wore plaid three-piece suits when he built machines and changed the oil in the car. (The sedan parked in the driveway, of course, not The Car locked in the garage, the one that Nevada still somehow didn’t know about.) A closed book, maybe a photo album, lay beneath one hand, but he was staring at the mirror, not even _into_ the mirror, just at it.

If he wanted to be left alone one day a year, she’d let him be left alone one day a year. 

That was something she’d had to explain to Jeremy, again and again. Even Mr. Ramirez — Vada, Nevada — got it and left Caractacus alone. 

Jemima jogged down the stairs and casually strolled into the kitchen to search for the chocolate emoji hearts she’d left on the counter. The kitchen had two entrances, so she made sure to go in through the one that was closer to the counter and further from the round dining table where Nevada sat with his lawyer.

Jemima struggled not to let out a huff when she noticed Nevada’s lawyer snacking on the chocolate hearts. 

The man shoved _an entire chocolate heart_ into his tiny mouth while he took notes on a legal pad. 

“Whaddya need, Dama?” Nevada asked, and the lawyer, his mouth full of chocolate, reacted with a bug-eyed expression of pleasant surprise at what might have been Nevada Ramirez’s genuine concern about the welfare of a child. 

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head.

Nevada leaned in towards the lawyer. “I think you’re eating her candy,” he said, sort of vaguely threatening, but really, in a manner that made Jemima giggle. 

The lawyer grabbed a napkin, wiped his face, and hurried to finish chewing, handing Jemima what was left of the candy. “If there’s candy out,” he admitted, still chewing, “I eat it.” 

“It’s like stealing candy from a baby,” Nevada said. 

The lawyer cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m sorry, Miss —”

“Jemima,” she said. “And it’s okay, Mr. — uh —”

“Barba,” he said, and the serious-faced lawyer, who Jemima had seen at the house once before, smiled in — relief, maybe? — at the girl. 

“If someone’s got your candy, you ask for it back,” Nevada told her. 

“Thanks,” she said. This time, she passed Nevada to exit the kitchen on the side closer to the staircase. 

“How’s Dad?” Nevada asked, half under his breath. “Still upstairs?”

“Still,” Jemima said. “But he’ll be back to being himself in the morning.”

“Yeah. Good.” She could tell Nevada was uncomfortable, even though the lawyer seemed more and more relieved as their fragments of conversation went on. 

Jemima continued to listen in as she headed for the stairs. 

“Can I convince you to talk to a therapist I regularly use in court as an expert witness?” the lawyer asked.

“I don’t do that shit,” Nevada said. “Can’t.” 

“It’d help your defense more than you realize.”

They switched into Spanish, but Jemima, a bit of a language maven (at least that’s what one of her teachers said), understood most of what Nevada was saying. 

_They have to know I’m out for good, I don’t care what the courts think, I care what the guys who used to work for me think._

And _I’ve got to keep them safe, y’know, I tried to keep them safe by getting the hell out of here, but_ , before he trailed off. 

Jemima found herself frozen in the middle of the staircase, still straining to listen. 

“To you, are they family?” the lawyer asked. 

She couldn’t hear Nevada’s answer, if there was an answer at all. 

—

An hour or so later, when she and Jeremy were finished sorting out their goody bags, Jemima heard footsteps upstairs and a knock on Jeremy’s bedroom door. 

She was surprised to see Nevada there. Jeremy, on the other hand, well, nothing seemed to surprise him. 

“Uh, was gonna order pizza,” Nevada said. “That okay? Unless you’re stuffed with candy.”

“Pizza’s fine,” Jeremy said. “And Dad’ll be better by tomorrow. He always is.”

“I heard,” Nevada said, nodding at Jemima. 

Nevada closed the door, leaving the twins alone with their candy again. 

“I’ll set the table,” Jemima offered, standing up. 

“Nevada would probably have us eating over the sink otherwise,” Jeremy said. “Let me set the table. You check on Daddy.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to check on him. Today’s the only day when he’s not — you know — cheery.”

“I’m sure there are other days when he’s not “cheery”.”

“Not that he ever lets us see.”

Jemima rolled her eyes. “You set the table, I’ll ask Daddy if he wants to join us for dinner. He’ll say no, and then we’ll eat.”

She headed back down the hall and peeked into Caractacus’s room, flinching when she noticed that he was in the same pose he’d been in earlier that afternoon, but this time, with Nevada sitting beside him. 

“Y’can’t go all day without food,” Nevada said. 

“I can,” Caractacus told him. His voice was broken, teary. 

“Not under my watch.”

Caractacus looked up, searching Nevada’s eyes, then cracked half a smile, tears suddenly running down his cheeks. He buried his face in Nevada’s shirt, sobbing silently, his usually-pale complexion turning deep red. 

“I’m sorry,” the inventor said, not lifting his face, “I’m sorry, I know you can’t handle —”

“You don’t tell me what I can’t handle,” Nevada said, wrapping both arms around Caractacus. Then, softer: “’S okay. ‘Stoy aqui. Unless you want me to leave you alone. Just say the word.”

Caractacus lifted his head and wiped his eyes. “Usually, on this day, I do. And maybe I still need to be left alone for a few hours, but right now — I’m glad you’re here.”

Jemima’s eyes stung and face ached, but she held in the tears and headed downstairs to wait for the pizza. 

Caractacus joined them — Jemima, Jeremy, and Nevada — for dinner. Jemima, stunned, listened to her father laugh and crack jokes about inventing a triple-locking candy safe to protect the kids’ stash from Nevada’s lawyer. 

She remembered the lawyer’s question to Nevada, the one that she hadn’t been able to hear the answer to: _To you, are they family?_

They were.


End file.
